


who's gonna listen

by the_problem_with_stardust



Series: dancing with a wolf [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Scott means well, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: Scott sounds hesitant, like he knows Stiles is going to take this badly. “Could you take a step back this semester? You know, maybe take a breather?”“Are you benching me from the supernatural?” Stiles tries for a joking tone, but it lands flat and humorless.





	who's gonna listen

**Author's Note:**

> General disclaimer: I don’t own anything, but please, please, please don’t post my work anywhere without my permission.

The screech of the Jeep’s wipers almost drowns out the sound of the rain pounding on the windshield. Stiles can’t remember a winter when it rained even half as much as this one. Isn’t California supposed to be in a drought or something? If it wasn’t for the fact that everything seemed quiet on the werewolf front, he’d suspect there was something supernatural about the constant dreariness.

“Hey man, are you doing okay?”

Stiles jerks in this seat, adrenaline spiking through his veins. It takes him a minute to remember Scott. He’s giving Scott a ride home. Because even with wolfy superpowers, Mamma McCall is not about to let Scott ride his motor bike in the rain. He lets out a slow breath.

“Stiles?”

His brain is still zinging a million different directions at once but he manages a distracted, “Yeah?”

“I’m worried about you.” Now that he is aware of his passenger again, Stiles can feel Scott’s eyes on the side of his face.

“Nothing to worry about, Scotty.” His cheeriness sounds fake even to him. “Everything is peachy.”

“Stiles! You fell asleep in first hour.”

“It was early and the Cold War is boring.” It has nothing to do with the fact that he can’t remember that last time he had a decent night’s sleep. Or that more often than not, he is plagued with nightmares and late nights spent staring at the ceiling, his imagination too loud to fall asleep.

Scott doesn’t look impressed. “And during lunch.”

“So maybe I’m tired? I’ll sleep more this weekend.”

“You freaked out when Greenberg checked you at practice.” Stiles scoffs, but Scott steamrolls over him. “Don’t try to deny it, I heard your heartrate go through the roof.”

Stiles slumps in his seat, defeated. “What do you want from me, Scott?”

Scott sounds hesitant for the first time, like he knows Stiles is going to take this badly. “Could you take a step back this semester? You know, maybe take a breather?”

 “Are you benching me from the supernatural?” Stiles tries for a joking tone, but it lands flat and humorless.

“Just, hear me out. Please.”

Stiles huffs, but keeps a lid on his tongue. Scott is pulling out all the stops, using his earnest _I’m worried about you_ voice.

“Right now things are quiet. The betas are adjusted to their shifts. If there ever was a time for a break, it’s now.”

“What should I do instead?” His death grip on the steering wheel is turning his knuckles bone white.

“Focus on getting ready for college? Actually stay awake in class and give Lydia a run for valedictorian?”

After a moment, Stiles sighs. “Is that an order from the Alpha?”

“I’m always going to be your brother first. And I wasn’t lying when I said I was worried.”

Stiles never can deny Scott anything when he brings out the earnest puppy eyes. Damn him.

“Okay.” He swallows tightly, and stares unseeing out the windshield. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. We’ll still see each other every day. Just for normal things.”

“Normal things?” Stiles worries Scott’s eyes are going to get stuck in the back of his head.

“You know, video games? Netflix? Movie nights? Ringing any bells?”

When did Scott get so sassy? Maybe it’s an alpha thing. They pull up outside of Scott’s house and the Alpha reaches over to slide his hand over the back of Stiles’ neck. It’s a move he uses on the betas and Stiles can feel himself relax into the touch.

“Just think about it, okay?”

Emotions a mess, Stiles watches Scott hop out of the passenger seat and sprint through the rain. He waves from the porch and Stiles throws Roscoe into reverse. He’s not sure he can pull off normal, but damn if he won’t try.

\---

In the end, Stiles is surprised by how little everything changes. The betas still brush against him in the hallways and Scott is still his best friend. They hang out almost every day, but it isn’t the same. When Scott calls, it’s to ask him to go to the movie or play video games, not to research some strange symbols or consult about a dead body.

One cold, rainy afternoon, he heads over to Scott’s. Mrs. McCall answers the door with a smile.

“Stiles! Scott’s upstairs.” She looks him over. “You’re looking better.”

As much as Stiles doesn’t want to admit it, the break has done him wonders. He started sleeping almost every night, and is back on a schedule that helps him focus. His grades pulled up from the edge of an A/A- to almost solid hundreds across the board.

Scott looks up from the mess of notes he’s trying to sort through. “Hey, man. I heard you outdid Lyds on the APUSH exam.”

“Yeah, she actually said she was happy to see that I was feeling more like myself.” It came as a total surprise when she confronted him after class, but Stiles is happy they are still on speaking terms.

Scott hums, looking pleased, but thankfully doesn’t say _I told you so_. Stiles leans over to take inventory of the sheets of paper spread across the bedspread. It looks like a mix of chemistry, Spanish, and maybe pre-calc?

By the time they have the notes sorted into some kind of order, Mrs. McCall knocks on the doorframe.

“I’m making champurrado.”

Stiles crows, rolling off of the bed and onto the floor. Scott laughs, but follows him out of the room with just as much enthusiasm. It’s just like when they were kids.

\---

He’s not sure how it happened, but suddenly the last day of school ends and he is free of Beacon Hills High forever. Well, at least until graduation next weekend.

It feels like something worth celebrating, so he digs out his mom’s recipe for golabki and drives to the grocery store. He pauses in the meat section to consult the recipe. His mom used to use a mix of sausage and ground beef, but he should probably use ground turkey for his dad. Less red meat is probably better. His phone buzzes in his pocket, diverting his train of thought.

**Scotty:** U sure? Ur missing out, dude

Stiles grins. Third-wheeling Scott and Kira is not something he feels like doing tonight, but at least he feels included.

“It’s good to see you smile, sweetie.”

He looks up from his phone and sees Mrs. Jones from down the street. Everyone he runs into – from his teachers at school to Larry in the drunk tank at the station – comments on his wellbeing. It’s starting to get awkward.

After a quick greeting to Mrs. Jones, he escapes to the produce section. He weighs each cabbage in his hand before deciding on two of the best looking ones. Then he gets stuff for a salad, since his dad needs to eat more vegetables. Finally, he chews his lip before caving and getting crusty bread from the bakery section too.

Preparing the filling and rolling it up in the cabbage leaves takes longer than he remembers, but he knows the finished product is so worth it. As the goblaki cooks in the oven, he cuts up vegetables for the salad and hacks the crusty bread into rough slices.

Just as he’s setting everything out on the table, the garage door bangs open. “Something smells good.”

Stiles flops into his seat, tired but content. His dad steps into the kitchen and stares at the spread for a long time before finally sitting down. He pulls the dish toward him and loads his plate.

“Can I expect szarlotka and paczkis soon?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but feels settled for the first time since Scott got the Bite.

\---

The day after graduation, he wakes up feeling cooped up and bored. He gave his salutatorian speech to the crowd gathered in the stands and made people laugh. It was a good feeling. He and Scott are having a joint grad party later on in the summer and he has plans to go to the beach with some of his classmates before they go off to college.

Everything is too normal. It makes him feel uneasy, so he decides to explore some of the trails in the preserve. They probably look different in the daylight. Out of habit, his feet lead him to the ruined Hale house. Really, it should be demolished. It is a major health hazard. Someone must be protecting the condemned property from the city. The realization makes him wonder, as he often does, about Derek. Hopefully he found whatever he was looking for.

Thinking about his former Alpha makes him feel melancholy and a little bitter. He misses being a key part of the pack. Scott means well and Stiles knows the break was for his own good, but he hates feeling utterly useless. At least Derek always needed him to pull his ass out of the fire. Which might not be the best metaphor, but still.

The skeletal outline of the Hale house is just looming through the trees when he hears rustling behind him. Stiles whips around, cursing his complacency. A man dressed like an extra from a TV SWAT team is standing in the trees, tranquilizer gun ready and aimed at him.

Stiles has just enough time to register that this is probably an unfriendly hunter before he feels the stab of the dart. There was no noise from the gun, just the numbness spreading through his veins. He crumples to the ground, vision fading and wonders if Scott will know where to look.

\---

When he comes to, he is slumped against a concrete wall. His hands are cuffed with shackles that look like something out of a 13th century torture dungeon. Which he knows because he spends too much time on Wikipedia.

“Good. He’s awake.”

A different hunter is standing beside the door. Stiles blinks the grogginess out of his eyes. Whatever they used was strong, but clearly not meant for a werewolf. If it was, he would’ve been dead long before they got to wherever the hell they are.

The man unhooks his chains from the wall and pretty much drags Stiles to his feet. His eyes water at the stinging of his dead limbs coming back to life.

“We hear you have quite the spark, boy.”

Stiles licks his chapped lips and manages to speak past his thick tongue. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The hunter just laughs and shoves him through the door across the hall. A man dressed in scrubs is standing beside an examination table. “This is the druid?”

“The younger one, yes.” Stiles is manhandled onto the table.

He struggles against the hunter and the man in the scrubs shakes his head. “That won’t do.”

There is a sharp prick in his neck. Dazed, his head lolls to the side. He can’t even find it in himself to freak out over the needle sliding into his arm. It takes a moment for him to feel, but whatever it is burns like fire through his veins.

The hunter watches as he writhes against the metal surface.

“I’ll let the chemist know this is a good start.”

Stiles can’t even think to come up with a smart ass comment, just arches off the table. He can feel something trickling from the corner of his mouth. It might be blood.

When the hunter hauls him off the table, he staggers and almost collapses. The man just keeps a hold of his shirt and drags him back to the dark room. He tosses the chains to the floor, the clank of metal on concrete echoing in the small space.

“If you behave, I won’t have to chain you to the wall again.”

Stiles rallies what little strength he has left and spits in the guy’s face. The act of defiance gets him backhanded to ground, where he stays.

The key rattles in the lock and he is left alone in the dim room. There is a sense of finality to the footsteps walking away from the door. Stiles groans and rolls onto his side, terror opening up inside like a chasm. He is going to die here.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on [tumblr!](https://theproblemwithstardust.tumblr.com)


End file.
